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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25865347">all bright things must burn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamebirds/pseuds/flamebirds'>flamebirds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>whatever you can still betray [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batwoman (Comic), Green Lantern (Comics), Titans (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arguing, Major Character Injury, Near Death, Panic Attacks, Star Sapphires (DCU)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:47:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25865347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamebirds/pseuds/flamebirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bette Kane of Earth", the glowing light announces, "You have the power to instill great love."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bette Kane &amp; Kate Kane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>whatever you can still betray [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all bright things must burn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gotham has a terrible habit of drawing her back in.</p><p>It's the story of her life, really; she'll get out. She'll make a life for herself in LA or Washington and she'll push aside her feelings. She'll try not to think about Bat-Woman or Batman, she'll focus on some new team that's sprung up, and for a while, that's enough. It keeps her busy, keeps her mind off the unpleasant memories. There's a whole new city to learn, new friends to be made, sparring to be had.</p><p>But it comes to an end. And, since this is her story, the end is always bloody. People die, people change, and she's left with her heart on the ground, torn into pieces.</p><p>It's when she's at her lowest that Gotham seems so appealing. It's familiar, coated in that rose coloured glass that makes it look so much better than it actually is. She'll remember the good times; playing tag on the rooftop, hot chocolate after patrol, the times she swore Bruce smiled at her. She'll think about her Gotham Academy days, about girls with sharp smiles and a quiver full of heartache, of fiery hair and an even more explosive personality.</p><p>She'll lose herself in the good stuff, and she'll ignore the bad. It's so easy to focus on what made you happy when you're at your lowest, so simple to ignore the warning signs in favour of nostalgia.</p><p>(She will force back the memories that hurt the most; the rejection, the heartbreak, the blood staining the carpet, the scream that echoes in her mind most nights. She'll pretend she doesn't know who it belongs to. She'll pretend it isn't her own).</p><p>She lets Kate's latest girlfriend know she's out with a sigh, hanging up the phone, and planning on going back to her workout. Her shoulder is giving her trouble again, a mistake from her youth that constantly comes back to bite her, but Kate wouldn't let that stop her, so why should she?</p><p>She knows Kate doesn't take her seriously, but just for the chance to spend time with her cousin, the one she was always the closest with, she's willing to put up with it. The snarky comments, the demeaning name, the ugly costume... it all seems worth it, when she actually gets to talk to Kate, instead of being ignored, brushed aside, treated like she isn't important unless she's in life-threatening danger.</p><p>So she'll deal with it. Bette's dealt with worse, anyways, over the years. And even if she's not gonna admit it to Kate's face, this batch of training pales in comparison to the stuff Aunt Kathy would put her through.</p><p>The water bottle in her hand scrunched when the thought passes her by, and Bette sighs, putting it down.</p><p>She doesn't like thinking about it ━━ that Kate's training mirror Kathy's. Because Kathy, back then, back when it all began, was training her best to keep her out of the vigilante game, working alongside Bruce to make her abandon the very idea.</p><p>But she's not a kid anymore. She's adult, gone through more than anyone her age ever should, and there's no backing out anymore. Even if she could, Bette's not sure she would. If she could go back, if she could stop her younger self from ever putting on a mask, she knows she wouldn't. Maybe give her a few pointers, but stopping her? No way.</p><p>This is her life. It's the only thing that's ever mattered, that makes her feel alive. She can't go back to that; walking around, with a dull heart, feeling like she was already dead. There would be a thrum under her chest, but it would be too small, too shallow, for her to even notice.</p><p>When she runs across the rooftops, when she throws herself into the heat of a battle, it's impossible not to notice. Her heart hammers in her chest, her veins burst with adrenaline and that feeling of being a dead girl walking starts to dissipate. She's a living, breathing thing, with her knuckles bruising and her breathing coming out ragged, the energy fizzling through her.</p><p>It's not a secret that she's addicted to it all, the high of a fight, the way her body aches after it all, the thrill that only a victory can bring. Tennis does its best, but it fails to live up to this, to being a hero, to swooping down from the sky and saving people.</p><p>She loves it, like she loves her family. It's something she could never live without, a part of her very entity, and even if Kate hasn't quite realized it yet, Bette's sure she will. She'll realize it, because she's Kate, and Kate knows Bette. Maybe not as much as when they were kids, but they're still family and there are some bonds that can never be severed, immune to the wear and tear of time.</p><p>Even if it's reckless, Bette wants to believe that this is one of those bonds.</p><p>"Bette", Kate says, stumbling in the door, soaked to the bone. Concern flares up immediately and she's looking for injuries, for blood, before she can even think. "It's over."</p><p>She doesn't pay any attention to the words being spoken to her, only on her cousin. She can't find any wounds, open or otherwise, and the hammering in her heart starts to slow down. Not enough to be considered calm, but to the point where she won't think calling in Bruce is a good idea. "Kate, oh my god! What happened...?"</p><p>"I'm sorry, Bette", she continues. "I'm so sorry, but it's over."</p><p>Her nose crinkles the closer she gets to her, the distinct scent of Gotham's water getting stronger and stronger with every step. "You smell of gasoline... and fish? Kate, what the hell happened?"</p><p>"You're not <em>listening </em>to me. You <em>never </em>listen..."</p><p>"You must be freezing", Bette stresses. "We need to get you out of this costume. Seriously, Kate, what happened to you?"</p><p>"Dammit, Bette!" Kate snaps, grabbing her by the shoulder. "It's over for you!"</p><p>Bette freezes. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"I'm done training you", Kate spits out. "It's over."</p><p>"What? Why? What did I do?"</p><p>There's a lull of silence in the air, her questions hanging there, unanswered, and there's a moment, one wonderful moment, where she thinks that whatever's happened here, whatever's got Kate so spooked, that they can fix it. Together, as a team, as a <em>family.</em></p><p>Then that moment ends.</p><p>"You don't have what it takes", Kate says dully. "You never did."</p><p>"You're wrong", Bette scoffs, pushing her away.</p><p>"No, I'm not", she replies coldly. "You're just a privileged tennis player. You're not even fighting <em>for</em> anything."</p><p>"That's not true━━"</p><p>Kate rolls her eyes, interrupting her. "The only thing <em>you</em> ever lost is a beauty pageant."</p><p>She feels jilted to a stop, like the whole wide world has come to a sudden end. And it has, hasn't it? Because Kate, her cousin, her <em>family, </em>who knows how many people they've lost, who held Bette when she <em>cried</em> at their aunt's funeral ━━</p><p>Her palm has extended before she can fully stop herself, rage coursing through her veins and blotting out anything else. Her cousin might not know everything, Bette might not be in a place where she can even tell her everything, but that doesn't excuse this. She knows enough, she's <em>seen</em> enough, to know that this isn't okay.</p><p>And if Kate actually believes this, that all she amounts to is an airhead tennis player, then Bette... Bette doesn't know if she can survive that. She's done everything, put on the stupid grey uniform, responded to the name Plebe, all for an excuse to spend time with somebody that she loves, somebody that's supposed to understand her, and if all this time, Kate thought she was nothing more than a dumb kid playing dress-up ━━</p><p>The idea alone is enough to make her heart shrivel up and die.</p><p>"Even if your mom and sister hadn't died", she says, not caring about her cracked voice, not caring if it hurts Kate, because there's this clenching in her chest that's blocking out the air and <em>you don't have what it takes, you don't have what it takes, you don't ha━━</em> "You would've driven them away."</p><p>She doesn't give Kate a chance to reply. The words fall from her lips, and Bette is gone, running into the streets of Gotham with tears in her eyes. There's that familiar tightening in her chest, but this time, there's no fear toxin to blame, no terrifying hallucinations at fault. There's no excuse for this panic attack and she can't help the part of herself that points the figure her way.</p><p>Her back falls against the wall of the apartment building, breathing coming out ragged, but she tries to push through it. In and out, focusing in on her surroundings. Sirens are blaring in the background, a couple is arguing nearby, and if she really focuses, she can smell food from the restaurant across the street.</p><p>Eyes squeezed shut, she works on calming her heartbeat, on breathing evenly.</p><p>She's supposed to go back, to apologize. That's what's probably expected of her, but honestly? <em>She can't. </em>She can't look in Kate's eyes and tell her that everything is fine, can't lie like that, because <em>nothing</em> about this is.</p><p>Kate's wrong. Bette knows this, down to her very soul, that her cousin is wrong about a lot of stuff. She more than what it takes, or she would already be dead, would've been killed before the concept of fighting in something other than a dress flitted through her mind. She's been a hero for more than half her life ━━ she has what it takes because the alternative is dying.</p><p>(The alternative is not being enough to change her own destiny. The alternative is boiling green waters and eyes so dull it hurts).</p><p>Bette stands up, wiping her tears on her arm. She's still shaking, trembles rocking through her whole body, but breathing is somewhat easier. She's stable enough to hail a cab, to spend two minutes trying to unlock her door, to find her old suit, buried in the back of her closet for no one to see.</p><p>Kate may have burned her newer suit, the one she poured a hell of a lot more money into, but the old one, from when she first made the decision to streamline the Flamebird outfit back in LA, has been patiently waiting for her since she got to Gotham.</p><p>It's not quite as safe as her newer one, with a lot less Kevlar in place (in her defence, she did basically make it in a few hours, later upgrades regardless), but it'll do.</p><p>She needs to knock off the anxiety coursing through, the anger that follows and the devastating sort of sadness that lies underneath. She needs something to spark her up, to light that fire inside and remind that she's a living, breathing thing, a person that isn't defined by what others think of her.</p><p>She needs to be <em>Flamebird.</em></p>
<hr/><p>For all of its numerous faults, Gotham has a tendency to stay the same. The rest of the world can feel the aftershocks of crises and invasions, magical warlords and interdimensional dictators, but Gotham doesn't change. It's still the grimy, crime-ridden city of her childhood, all of its flaws and positives remaining the same.</p><p>Which means, finding crime isn't a particularly hard task.</p><p>It's some random gun racket, something so normal for her, and as she starts to fight, kicks fired out on automatic, she starts to feel some of the stress melt away. There's a certain beat to fighting, a dance she adores, and she lets herself fall into it without a care. The familiarity of it all wraps around her like a warm hug and she laughs, happy and carefree despite it all, a breathless little thing that only crime-fighting can bring out.</p><p>"You should not have come here", a voice says from the mist that surrounds her. "Poor Pajarito... he's going to clip your wings."</p><p>She lets out a low laugh, lifting her head up as the last of gun racketers scatter. There's no fear, not with this; not with something she's so intimately familiar with. Death hasn't scared her for years, not since a yellow and red suit became her future, her destiny so clearly laid out for her.</p><p>So when a figure emerges from that mist, hulking over her, Bette doesn't bat an eyelid. She doesn't hesitate as she flings herself into the fight, a laugh spilling from her lips before she can help herself.</p><p>He's bigger than her, but hardly the largest opponent she's ever gone up against and kind of reminds her of something out a cheap horror movie, the kind she and Artemis would mock relentlessly. Really, the only thing that has her even slightly concerned is the sight of his hook in place of one of his hands. It's sharp, glinting in the moonlight, and something about it has her skin crawling.</p><p>"Hey, B-Movie!" She greets, knocking him down to the ground with a kick. She has to put her whole body behind it, but it's worth it, to see him sprawled on the ground. "What freakshow did you crawl out of?"</p><p>He's up a little faster than she anticipated, punching her and whispering words that get lost to the night. His breath is terrible, like rotten flesh, but she pushes it back, and focuses on the only that matters, the only that could ever matter.</p><p>The deadly dance continues and she starts to feel more alive than she has all day. There's no Kate to worry about, no ghosts haunting her; there's just her, some C-list villain and the thrill of the fight. If she could stay in this moment forever, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the infectious smile tugging at her lips, she would.</p><p>She dodges his next attack with a smirk, dodging all of the following ones as she moves through the night with ease, locked into her element. He gets in a hit, a heavy punch that she can feel bruising her skin, but she rolls with, sliding to the side before he can follow it up.</p><p>"Like I can't take a punch", she laughs, like she's got something to prove. "You know how many superheroes have me on speed dial? I'm the real deal."</p><p>She jumps back, still grinning. This, this is exactly what she needed. The stress seems to dissipate with every move, every punch, and all that's left is the kind of contentedness she can never get from anything else. It's perfect, it's thrilling, and it's still not enough to save her.</p><p>Time seems to slow down, the hook gleaming in the moonlight as it gets closer to her. It's too late to dodge, too late to twist herself to minimize its impact. It's too late to do anything but watch with a sick fascination as the hook cuts along her hip, pain flaring up immediately.</p><p>It's hardly the worst injury she's ever had, but it's enough to throw her off guard, long enough for that hook to slice through the air again and then ━━</p><p>It digs into her abdomen. She feels it, the metal slashing through her skin and into her organs, tearing apart the flesh with ease. She opens her mouth to scream, to do something, but all that comes out is a trickle of blood, and a soft, <em>"Oh".</em></p><p>She can hear him talking, about how <em>warm</em> she is, how <em>soft,</em> and nausea rises in the back of her throat like a tidal wave, but all that comes out is more blood,<em> always more blood.</em></p><p>She's certain that she screams when he rips the hook out with no mercy, seemingly intent on causing her as much pain as possible. She falls into a pool of her own blood, crimson liquid spreading around her at too rapid a pace.</p><p>The man starts to leave, fading away into the mist, and she looks at the red that surrounds her, the puddle that's quickly becoming a river. It's too much blood, far too much blood, and abdomen injuries are always so dangerous, she learned about this, from Bruce, from Leslie, from Kathy, from so many people.</p><p>She's not going to get a chance to tell Kate she's sorry, to tell her that she loves her. She 's going to die and Kate's going to think she died furious at her, when that couldn't be further from the truth.</p><p>Oh <em>God,</em> what if Kate's the one to find her? Bette wouldn't wish that on anyone ━━ to come across the corpse of somebody you love, to keep on begging them to wake up, even when their chest stays horrifyingly still. She would never want Kate to experience. She would never want anyone to experience it.</p><p>There's so much more she wants to do, wants to say. She wants to tell Gar he's the best friend she could ever ask for, wants to hear Babs laugh one more time, meditate with Hank, drink tea with Dawn, play chess with Damian, wants a single chance to tell Bruce that she loves him, she does, and she's sorry for leaving, so fucking sorry. She wants him and Kate to know that she's always going to love them, no matter what happens, but ━━</p><p>But that crimson pool is growing bigger and bigger by the second and the pressure she's placing on the wound starts to loosen as her grip on reality begins to fade.</p><p>Tim's going to freak out about this, she knows he will. But maybe it's okay, that she goes out like this, and not like she's supposed to, not looking into the eyes of a friend and watching her life flicker away from her.</p><p>No, instead, she's going to bleed out in a grimy alley. She's scared that Kate will be the one to come across her body, but it's followed by a much more terrifying thought ━━ will anyone? Will it just be a random civilian? Will they know that she's gone, will they know that she was gutted in the dead of night?</p><p>She disappears a lot, she can admit this. When things become too much, when the ghosts of her past start to suffocate her, she runs. She keeps on trying to escape her demons, but they always catch up, and maybe, just maybe, this time, she's going to be far enough away that they'll never reach her.</p><p>She won't be alone, and that's somewhat comforting. Kathy's going to be there, waiting, and she's gonna be able to see Don. She'll be able to tell him how good Hank's doing, how Dawn brings out the best in him, how he's started smiling again. She'll tell him all about Titans LA, how much she's missed, how she would've done anything to get him back.</p><p>Charley will be there, with his dumb smile and dumber jokes. She wonders if he's changed, wonders if she's changed, wonders if it even matters. Probably not, knowing him. She's going to get there, wherever there may be, and he's gonna be waiting. She can practically imagine it, the feeling of him holding her, the wind whipping her hair around her face as he takes her flying.</p><p>It isn't enough to stop the tears in her eyes, though. She's still going to be leaving behind so many, people she promised she'd never abandon. The choice is out of her hands, but guilt remains, festering in her heart, rotting it even as its beat starts to slow down.</p><p>She's not making it out of this one alive. There's a dull ache of surprise somewhere within her, but it's beaten back by the sadness, the pain, the regret. She wants ━━ she <em>needs</em> ━━ the people in her life to know that she cares. She needs to know that Kate isn't going to blame herself for this.</p><p>It's not fair. She's supposed to have an entire life ahead of her, supposed to live and laugh and love for so many more years. It isn't meant to be cut short here, on the pavement, in red. </p><p>She believes in destiny. She has to, at this point, after seeing it thread the lives of her friends together, watching as the gods themselves interfered in mortal affairs to bring things to their destination.</p><p>And she thought she knew what her destiny was. Thought she'd looked her in the eyes, those hollow, empty eyes. Thought that she'd promise she wouldn't waste the time she had left, that she'd live her life to the fullest.</p><p>She's not getting a chance anymore.</p><p>There's a purple glow that keeps on getting closer, flitting in and out of her line of vision. It's certainly not the white light that everybody talks about, but Bette moves towards it regardless. It has a terrible way of drawing her, in this light, and she pushes through the pain just to get closer to it, just to see.</p><p>It grows nearer to her, but whatever it is remains unclear. Maybe if so much of her blood wasn't running down the pavement, she'd be able to concentrate, to get a good grasp on what she was dealing with, but she can't. She can barely breathe, barely force any words out, and this light, shining through the mist, through the darkness, makes that feel okay.</p><p>"Bette Kane of Earth", the glowing light announces, "You have the power to instil great love. Accept our ring and join our fight."</p><p>And there's something coming out of the light. Maybe it is the light, just solidified, just stronger. She can't tell anymore, isn't sure if this is even real or some blood loss induced delusion, and at this point, she doesn't care.</p><p>What does it matter, if this is reality or not? It's making her feel safe, warm, loved, and in her final moments, that's what she wants, all she could want. The light is pushing against the sadness and the guilt, becoming the only thing that makes sense anymore, and Bette finds herself dragging her body closer and closer to it, just to get that soothing feeling to wash over her once more.</p><p>The thing ━━ that looks suspiciously like a ring ━━ repeats its mantra, like it's caught on a loop. and Bette realizes that it's waiting on her to answer, to give it something.</p><p>Like it's waiting on a yes.</p><p>It takes her a moment, blood still trickling from her mouth, but she manages it. That one word is hard, like a thousand knives in her throat, but she hears things like love and fight and saying it feels like the most important thing in the world.</p><p>"Yes", she chokes out, through the red, through the pain, through it all, because it's the last thing that makes sense.</p><p>The light, the ring, slips itself onto her finger and violet light engulfs her. It's like fire dancing across her skin, a million bolts of lightning flashing through her veins, and it battles against the haze she feels shrouded in.</p><p>It wins, too, brightening up her world in a rush. There's still pain (still so much pain, too much pain), but it lessens and for once, the pool of blood doesn't seem to grow.</p><p>Something a little bit like hope starts to spark in Bette's cest, thrumming away like her heartbeat, and she holds onto it for dear life. The idea that this isn't her end, that she still has a chance ━━ it's too intoxicating to ignore.</p><p>She tightens her grip on it as the purple light brushes over her, engulfing her in it completely. White and violet wrap around her, snaking their way over her costume, but it's all too bright for her to properly see.</p><p>She doesn't need her eyes to know that it's doing <em>something</em> though, when the light starts to get brighter, starts to burn her skin. She feels like a star going supernova, like she's going to burn down everything in her path, like there's nothing that could stop her, nothing that could save her.</p><p>Bette blinks once more, the searing light forcing her eyes shut, and when she opens them once more, she swears she's not in Gotham anymore.</p><p>"Welcome to the Star Sapphire Corps."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well... this certainly exists.</p><p>I've been talking about this idea on my Tumblr for a while &amp; I finally decided to pull the trigger &amp; write something for it. Think of this as an introduction, because I have so much more planned, some of which got kinda teased (ish) in this part.</p><p>Please please please comment and let me know what you thought, I'm needy and seek constant validation, etcetera, etcetera.</p><p>Thank you for reading this!!!! Even if you think it's a dumpster fire, I still appreciate you!!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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